Three Decades of Pretending Come to an End in a Military Holding Cell

Nine forty-eight.

“They don’t even know who you are,” Glenn said.

He jabbed a finger through the bars.

“You’re just some lady in a gray sweater trying to sneak onto a military base,” he said.

“A Marine base,” I said.

“Same thing,” Glenn said.

“They’re calling the local police as we speak.

The sheriff’s going to drive up here and cart you off in the back of a cruiser.”